Peters saw a small clearing a half a mile ahead of him, and steered towards it. Karls saw where he was going, then moved towards it too. Peters circled around the clearing twice, making sure there were no Covenant there, then landed. Karls landed a few seconds later. Karls slid out of the Banshee and wiped the sweat off of his forehead. The sky was still dark, but they could see the sunlight creeping out the mountaintops far away. Peters slid out of his Banshee and sat down, breathing deeply. He was exhausted beyond all belief. He hadn't eaten in days, he was freezing cold, and there were probably only one or two human outposts on this planet. Peters heard Karls laugh, and turned to look at him. "What's so funny?" Peters asked, his voice almost a whisper. Karls pointed at the Covenant ship. "Look. Can you see where we escaped?" Peters looked at the ship, and sure enough, he could see the exact place they had came out of the ship. There was a hole in the ship, not big compared to the entire ship, but big enough to do some damage. The grenade's explosion, coupled with the remaining Banshee's explosions, made an explosion big enough to send bits of the ship flying. Even miles away, Peters could see blue and purple flames erupting out of the ship, sending smoke into the early morning sky. Peters chuckled, but then realized they were still too close to the ship. Even though they had disabled one fighter bay, there were probably dozens more, each carrying dozens of Banshees. They had to move before the Covenant went out to find them. "Let's get going." Peters said, motioning for Karls to get into the Banshee. Karls nodded and stepped into his Banshee. Peters took the lead again, and began heading from clearing to clearing, looking for a human outpost. Peters was almost frozen to death, and he felt like he could go another hour or so before passing out from hunger. They could go back to the Pelican, but there would be no edible food left and the radio was probably destroyed in the crash. He stared straight ahead, towards the sun, looking for any metal or cement he could find. Suddenly, he saw a glimmer of light in the corner of his eye. A reflection that blinded him momentarily. He looked to the left, and saw a small building with a large satellite on the top, probably for communication, but most likely a radar for incoming enemy forces. Karls must have seen it too, because he had already turned towards it. Peters, now trailing Karls, headed for it as well. After a few minutes, they landed in front of the building. Peters covered the Banshee with snow, so that the Covenant would think no one was here. Karls did the same, but by accidentally crashing it into a snow dune, which buried the Banshee under ten feet of snow. Karls dug his way out and swore. "Well, that's not able to fly any more. I'm stuck here." Peters rubbed his arms for heat, then began hitting his legs to get the blood flowing. After several hard punches, he could feel his legs again. He walked towards the door, glad to see that there was no lock, and opened it. Inside was much warmer than the outside. All the machinery created excess heat, which made the room a comfortable 85 degrees. Peters sighed happily at the warmth, now burning his somewhat frostbitten skin. Karls had already shaken the snow off of his shirt, watching the snow melt on the warm ground. Peters walked over to the lockers and opened one. It was empty, save for a few empty batteries. He walked to the next one, opened it, and pulled out a magazine of assault rifle rounds. He pocketed them, and moved to the next locker. He opened it and saw that there was a package of freeze-dried foods. He laughed and took the package, tore it open, and grabbed a handful of the meal. He put it in his mouth, savoring the taste for as long as it still had flavor, then swallowed. He ran over to Karls, holding out the bag to offer him some, but dropped it when he saw that Karls was holding a chicken leg. "W-where'd you get that?" Peters asked, his mouth watering. Karls mumbled with his mouth full of chicken. "Wefigerater." Peters looked up and saw an open walk-in refrigerator, filled to the brim with water, beer, and various meats and fruit. Peters ran in, took a beer, and opened it. He laughed gleefully when it sprayed over his face, then chugged it down in less than ten seconds. He let out a loud belch, wiped his mouth, then grabbed a slice of ham. When Peters had had enough food, he stepped out of the refrigerator, letting the heat wash over him once again. He saw Karls at a control monitor, pressing some buttons, than grab a microphone. "Hello? Can anyone read me? This is Private Karls, reporting from planet RFC-22, sector 5. Repeat, can anyone read me?" Karls stood, waiting, then sat down after several minutes. Peters grabbed a slice of bread, stuffed it in his mouth, then sat down. After ten minutes, the radio hissed static, then a voice could be heard. "Hello? Private Karls? This is Lieutenant Rodriguez from the vessel Sparticus. We read you loud and clear." "Oh, thank God!" Karls said into the microphone. "We need pickup NOW. The Covenant are going to find us, the Pegasus is gone, and I'm COLD!" "Where's the command for that outpost, private? As I recall, that outpost was for picking up transmissions, not sending them." Karls looked at Peters. "We don't know where the command is. We crashed on this planet a few days ago, and the Covenant seemed to have just got here. By the looks of it, this place has been deserted for... a week at the least. There aren't any plasma burns on the walls, either." "Alright. We're close to your location. We'll be there in an hour." Rodriguez said, then the radio went dead. "What happened?" Peters asked. "I don't..." Karls was about to finish his sentence, when the lights went out. A second later, the machinery died. "Oh, no." Peters whispered. "The Covenant found us." Karls stood up straight, a look of concentration on his face. "No, not the Covenant. Listen, no clanking of armor, no sound of dropships, Banshees, or Ghosts, and we're not dead yet. The Covenant wouldn't have given us time to think." Peters listened for a minute, not breathing to hear better. He thought he heard a growl, but it sounded nothing like any Covenant race he knew. "Hey, Karls, grab your gun." "I don't have it. I left it outside." Karls whimpered. Peters ran over to the lockers and checked every one until he found an assault rifle. He didn't find any ammo, but he remembered the magazine he had pocketed earlier. He slid it into the rifle and turned the safety off. "Whatever's out there... we aren't going to die today."